The Turning Page

Pages turn. 

One slowly after the other,

and we always want to be on the page we just were,

or the next to come. 

Because the story now just doesn't seem right,

and it's like the words don't fit and they're just a jumbled mess. 

The kind you lay in, staring at the ceiling.

The more words we see the less they mean. 

Yet you don't think that's true. 

We simply get stuck on the ones we like best. 

Beautiful, beautiful words. 

My one true love.

Reviews

[Acataleptic]

Love love love this piece; wonderful!